


Sköll

by CeridwenofWales



Series: The Sea Wolves: An Alternate Timeline [2]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Child Death, F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Issues, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 03:57:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15331194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeridwenofWales/pseuds/CeridwenofWales
Summary: Ubbe wants to pay a visit to Ivar and so he sails with Asa, his wife, and their daughter, Dagmar. He expects to find Moyra standing by Ivar's side as he reaches the docks, but he discovers Moyra died in childbirth, taking her daughter with her.I couldn't think about a title so it will be this one for now, muahahaha. I accept suggestions!Well... This piece is a sequel suggested by an anon reader who sent me anaskon Tumblr some weeks ago:"After catching up on Alpha and Omega, I started thinking... Moyra still died in childbirth and Ubbe comes back with Asa and baby Dagmar and sees Sigtrygg holding the gift he gave his unborn nephew, which is his favorite: the wooden wolf. Sigtrygg watches how it could have been to have a family and cries at night. Ivar holds him until he falls asleep."





	Sköll

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if all readers will remember, but Ivar refered to himself as Sköll in his constant pursue to conquer Moyra. I thought it would be interesting to have his son naming his favorite toy as Sköll then. Here it's the excerpt from chapter 08 ([Sköll and Sól](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904340/chapters/25467090))
> 
> She would distance herself from him with as much eagerness as Ivar was pursuing her. It was like Sköll chasing Sól and, despite her attempts to keep distance, Sköll would eventually catch her, initiating Ragnarök. Ivar didn’t want to destroy Moyra. He didn’t want his darkness to destroy the glow he had glimpses of whenever she thought he was not watching. Ivar wanted to be the reason for the smiles and laughter she shared with Màiri.
> 
> It was said that Sól's legacy would be continued by a daughter no less beautiful than she. Ivar wanted a daughter, and many children as adorable as her, but not when Moyra hated him this way. Ivar was out of control and he hated it. He didn’t know what to do to conquer Moyra. He felt powerless for the first time in his life. Powerless as when he saw her being attacked. What could he do to make her happy?
> 
> [Sköll](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sk%C3%B6ll) is a warg that chases the horses Árvakr and Alsviðr, that drag the chariot which contains the sun (Sól) through the sky every day, trying to eat her. Sköll has a brother, Hati, who chases Máni, the moon. At Ragnarök, both Sköll and Hati will succeed in their quests.

* * *

 

 

The breeze off the ocean was warm against their faces. Sigtrygg was standing by his side, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and holding his favorite toy. His very first toy given to him not by his father but carved by gentler hands. Ubbe's hands. Ivar glanced down at his son for a brief instant, wondering if he was anxious to finally meet his uncle. But Ivar couldn’t look at the boy for more than a few minutes without feeling tears welling up in his eyes. _So much like her with every day that goes by._

 

Ivar swallowed the lump in his throat, shifting his gaze to the boats approaching the docks.

 

Ubbe's fleet, the scout had said. And considering the banners, Ivar had no reasons to doubt it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As the ships approached Dublin's port, Ubbe gasped, marveled at the sight of how much Ivar's kingdom had grown. He noticed a large fleet in the harbor and imagine how many different shores they sailed to since his departure. He heard horns being blown in the distance announcing they had been spotted and the harbor slowly became crowded. Warriors coming out of their houses, wearing armors, holding spears, arrows, shields. The ones wealthy enough were wielding swords. Asa gasped at the sight and Ubbe pulled her to his chest, kissing her forehead.

 

“Don't worry!” Ubbe muttered, inhaling into the scent of her hair.

 

“So many warriors!” Asa stuttered and Ubbe nodded in agreement, “I thought his reign was an impressive trade center. But there's war!” Ubbe gulped, noticing the way Asa was looking down at Dagmar. He could feel the way his wife's body was rigid against his, her lower lip quivering as if she was about to suggest they should turn and leave. Apparently, Ivar found a way to increase his army. There seemed to be even more warriors than when Ubbe left sailed to Orkney.

 

“There is always war wherever Ivar goes. You shall see his hunger is not easily appeased.” Ubbe admitted meekly, running a finger over his daughter's cheek. Dagmar squirmed but remained asleep.

 

“We should…” Asa looked up at Ubbe, taking a deep breath.

 

“We should greet my brother. That's why we came here. Ivar must have his reasons to be cautious, but he wouldn't hurt his family.” Ubbe smiled and leaned down to kiss Asa's trembling lips.

 

Ubbe pulled away, “See? There he is!” He caught sight of Ivar standing on the dock. A smile appeared on his lips when Ubbe realized Ivar was not alone.

 

It was so difficult for Ubbe to show confidence on his face. His feelings about Ivar were conflicted. Ubbe wished his brother's success, but he also feared being around Ivar for too long. Ubbe hoped Ivar had found a way to at least lessen his cruelty and selfishness now that he was a father.

 

Ubbe feared without guidance, or willingness to accept words of wisdom and experience coming from others, Ivar was still the volatile man he knew.

 

Ivar watched in silence as the boat reached the dock until something unexpected shifted his attention from Ubbe's arrival. A sweaty, soft hand grabbed his calloused one. Ivar gulped and gently squeezed the little fingers, unable to look at the wide indigo eyes that were fixed on his face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ubbe jumped out of the ship, extending his hand for Asa as she held Dagmar against her chest.

 

"Let me go ahead! I think it's wiser that I talk to him first, huh?" Ubbe whispered, leaning down to kiss Asa's cheek.

 

“Be careful!” Asa stuttered and Ubbe felt his mouth dry at the sight of her jaw trembling.

 

“There’s nothing to fear.” Ubbe promised, but it took a monumental effort to push away the unnerving alarm in the back of his mind.

 

“Brother!" Ubbe shouted, walking ahead of Asa to greet Ivar. He beamed at Ivar, but there was an underlying tension that made a shiver ran down his spine. Ubbe opened his arms to embrace Ivar but seeing his brother didn't make any move to close the distance between them, he only patted Ivar's shoulder.

 

"Ubbe!" Ubbe was not fooled by the calmness of his voice, “Your presence is unexpected.” Ubbe gulped, seeing the corner of Ivar's mouth twitching as he tilted his head.

 

Ubbe dismissed the rudeness, looking over his shoulder to Asa, “My wife, Asa and our daughter Dagmar.” Ubbe placed a protective arm over Asa’s shoulder as she nodded at Ivar. Her arms tightened around Dagmar instinctively when she noticed Ivar’s unmoving stare at the bundle she carried.

 

“That must be my nephew then.” Ubbe squatted before Sigtrygg, smiling as he saw the boy clutching the wooden wolf to his chest, “I see you like the toy I carved for you when you were still in your Mama’s belly.”

 

Sigtrygg squeezed Ivar’s hand, opening his mouth as to say something, but Ivar pulled him away from Ubbe with a snarl, “We let the dead rest, Ubbe.” Ubbe let out a shaky breath at the revelation.

 

 _That’s why she is not here._ He thought Moyra would be waiting for them at home, now the truth made him feel his throat tightening and Ubbe could no longer speak.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar sits at the head of the table, flanked by his son on the right and Ubbe on the left. Asa is by Ubbe's side, holding Dagmar and trying to eat with only one free hand, after refusing to hand the baby to Màiri. They eat in an uncomfortable silence. No one daring to start a conversation after Ivar’s harsh welcome, moments before.

 

Sigtrygg tears off tiny pieces of his bread but doesn’t bring any to his mouth. Màiri tries to convince him to slurp a spoonful of his broth, but Sigtrygg just shakes his head, pressing his lips into a thin line until Màiri sighs in defeat. Ivar gulps, unsure about what to do, but dismisses Màiri with a wave of his hand. _At this age he should be eating bread, shouldn’t he? Is he sick?_

 

Ubbe’s voice startles Ivar, “Do you intend to sail this Spring, brother?”

 

“Yes! Are you offering to join me?” Ivar jeers at Ubbe, glancing at Sigtrygg for a moment. The boy is distracted, watching Asa whispering and smiling down at Dagmar. The baby is babbling and reaching out her hands to touch her mother’s face. Asa giggles, leaning down to kiss her daughter’s nose.

 

“I’ll devour this tiny nose.” Asa is cooing as Dagmar let out squeals of excitement, moving her chubby hands. Asa trembles, feeling the intensity of the gazes over her.

 

“I think she is hungry.” Asa announces and Ubbe approaches, pulling her chair and kissing Dagmar’s cheek and his wife’s lips as she rises to her feet. They don't seem to notice, or care about, Ivar and Sigtrygg watching.

 

Ivar holds Màiri’s wrist when she moves to fill his cup, “Take the boy with you. He hasn’t eaten yet.” Màiri nods, offering her hand to Sigtrygg.

 

“Good night, _Faðir_! Good night, Uncle Ubbe.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar was distracted, watching Sigtrygg walking away with Màiri, “Can't you see the hunger in his eyes?” Ubbe broke the silence and Ivar turned to glare at him.

 

“Hunger? My son has been looked after. What you suggest is absurd.” Ivar hissed, leaning forward on his elbows.

 

“I'm not talking you're not providing for your child. It's far from that. He is well fed and dressed. A smart and healthy boy,” Ubbe paused, giving Ivar a moment to see he was not under attack. Ivar smiled and Ubbe thought it would be wise to proceed.

 

“He lacks your love, brother!” Ubbe added as a whisper.

 

“I love my son!” Ivar shouted, slamming his fists on the table.

 

“I know you do,” Ubbe took a sip of his mead, seeing how Ivar was taking deep breaths, “Does he know? You can’t even look at your son. He is begging for you to see him. To acknowledge his existence.” Ubbe inquired, shaking Ivar out of his trance.

 

He frowned and licked his lips, as though he was trying to pick his words carefully, “You don't tell me how to raise my son,” Ivar sneered then gestured dismissively with his cup. “Nobody asked you to come here, anyway. Why are you here, Ubbe? Tell me!” Ivar leaned his head against the chair, his gaze hardening.

 

“I see…” Ivar smirked, “You came to show me how happy you are with your little family.” He lowered his voice and Ubbe just watched in utter disbelief.

 

“No, nobody asked me to come.” Ubbe pushed back his chair, ready to leave, “I’ll tell Asa we are leaving. But I'll need some time to supply and prepare the ships to sail again.”

 

“Could you…” Ivar couldn’t waste the chance to finally share the terror that plagued every conscious moment of his day, and sometimes even when asleep since Moyra died and took their daughter with her. For the first time, Ivar felt like someone cared about how he felt.

 

Ubbe stopped, waiting for Ivar to say what seemed to disturb his mind to the point he couldn’t form the sentence. He saw the way the corner of Ivar’s mouth twitched and realized his brother needed to talk but didn’t know how to admit what he considered as weakness. Ubbe had never known Ivar to be at a loss for words.

 

“Tell me, brother!” Ubbe touched Ivar’s shoulder and imagined the tautness of his muscles was due the few years of guilt he carried all by himself.

 

“Could you look your child in the eye knowing that you’re the reason he doesn’t have a loving mother to care for him or a sister to play with?” Ivar shuddered and Ubbe sat beside him once more.

 

“We will never know why the Gods wanted to take her. Maybe because it was her choice, maybe because it was her fate. The fact is that it was not _your_ choice.” Ubbe pressed on.

 

“He will hate me one day.” Ivar lifted both his hands to his head to rub his temples.

 

“I wouldn't be able to bear having his love only to be stripped of his affection when he realizes what I did to her.” The falter in his voice was undeniable.

 

“You don't know that, Ivar. Do you think it’s fair to him? He doesn’t have his mother already.”

 

“He has Màiri, Astrid who comes to visit often... even though he doesn't feed on her breast anymore. Even Ingrid.” Ubbe noticed the way Ivar sneered talking about the midwife and wondered what had happened between them while he was away. _Does he blame her for Moyra's death?_

 

“That’s good. But he needs his father.”

 

“He doesn't need me! I destroy everything I touch. He is safer away from me.” Ubbe felt his mouth instantly dry as he thought about how painful it was for a father to believe his child was in danger because of him. Yet, he could see sacrifice in Ivar's decision to remain distant. He was doing what he believed it was the best for Sigtrygg. It's tainted with fear for sure. Ivar fears Sigtrygg's rejection. Even the distant possibility seems dreadful.

 

“Why don't you marry? Maybe having a woman by your side will help you to bond with your son and ease your pain.” Ubbe suggests wryly only to see Ivar snorting.

 

“I won't risk having a woman to be jealous of my son. I don't want another woman under my roof that will certainly harm my son to the benefit of the children we might have.” Ivar hissed through gritted teeth and Ubbe nodded in agreement. It seemed either Ivar had contemplated the idea himself, or others tried to coerce him to do it. His brother spoke again, distracting Ubbe from his thoughts.

 

“Besides… What makes you think I want to ease this pain? I deserve this. It's the only thing Moyra left. The only thing that tells me that I'm still alive.”

 

“It's not the only thing she left.”

 

“But it's the only thing I can deal with. I know how to inflict and endure pain, but Moyra proved I don’t know how to love.”

 

“Yet, I think her death taught you something.” Ubbe paused, waiting for Ivar's interest.

 

“Her death showed you that you can't take love unless it's offered to you and that's why it pains me you're so afraid to reach out and hold the purest love you will ever experience. Your son's love.”

 

Ubbe saw Ivar’s defenses crumbling. He blinked, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as Ivar swallowed heavily.

 

“The worst part of hiding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared otherwise they die with us. Sigtrygg needs to know his mother through others’ words and eyes.” It was the final push and Ivar let out a strangled sob, his body trembling and tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar was walking to bed when a muffled cry attracted his attention. Ivar peered into the slightly opened door and saw Màiri pacing through the room with Sigtrygg in her arms. His face was hidden in the crook of her neck, his back heaving as Sigtrygg wept with his arms wrapped around her neck.

 

“I’m here, my love!” Màiri kept whispering as Sigtrygg clung to her.

 

“Sigtrygg?” Màiri stiffened, startled by Ivar’s voice. The boy lifted his head, wiping away the tears as if embarrassed for being caught crying, “Do you want to sleep with _Faðir_ tonight?”

 

The boy blinked his long eyelashes and nodded. Màiri frowned at the scene but complied and placed the child to the ground.

 

Ivar sighed in relief as Sigtrygg hesitantly walked to him. He offered his hand and Sigtrygg froze in surprise, his eyes moving from his father’s hand to his face.

 

“Come!” Ivar grumbled. For the first time since Moyra and their daughter’s death he smiled at the sight of Sigtrygg’s eyes gleaming with excitement.

 

The boy held his hand, and they were ready to walk to Ivar’s quarters when Màiri muttered, “You forgot Sköll, Sigtrygg.”

 

The boy shook his head, gazing up at his father with a shy smile. That night he wouldn’t need a wooden wolf to protect him.


End file.
